


042 - Uni House Party Cute Meet

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: Cute meet, F/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-12 05:23:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17461409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: Filling the prompt "hey! could you pls expand on a story about meeting Van at a uni house party? he performed acoustically at the start and so didn’t get much time to drink. the reader arrives late after work and hadn’t drank yet either. van and the reader meet out the back when you forget your light and he offers you one. he suggests going inside to do tequila shots to catch up, places the lime between his lips and when you take the shot and go to lean in to bite it, he quickly spits it out and kisses you?“





	042 - Uni House Party Cute Meet

The last hour of your shift was spent planning your outfit for the party. As you served customers and made coffee, you thought that it was nice balmy weather and that meant you could wear a dress. A little windy though, so one with heavy enough material not to fly up all the time. The party was at some on-campus house, so you could probably stay inside all night if you wanted to. The white lace dress from H+M hadn’t been worn yet, but not many people at the party had seen that floral patterned one with the heart cut out on the back. Choices, choices, choices.

By the time you unlocked the door to your house it was already almost 11 pm. You decided on the white lace and some black Vans. Simple, pretty, clean. By the time you got to the party it was almost midnight. There were people everywhere, and three different songs were playing simultaneously from three different sources. There was a car in the yard with its doors and boot open. Stranger by Peking Duk was blasting from the speakers in the back. From inside you could hear the out of this world pitch of Childish Gambino. Around the side, from the back of the house, there was a 90s pop mashup playing the songs of your childhood.

You messaged Grace to see where she was. You walked around the side and found a door that would lead through the laundry and into the house. You stood for a second, looking for your lighter. A cigarette sat between your fingers ready and waiting. When you couldn’t find it you let out a small growl of unhappiness.

“Need a light?” someone close by asked. He was standing with a few other guys. As he turned to speak to you he separated from them and like he was the glue, they all walked off into the party in opposite directions. You nodded and smiled as politely as you could. He pulled one out and lit the flame. He shielded the cigarette from the breeze and you inhaled. You hadn’t had time for one after your shift and you needed it. He chuckled.

“Thank you. So much. First one since work,” you explained and he nodded.

“You just got here then?” he inquired, to which you nodded. “Same. We,” he motioned to the spot where his friends had been standing, “just played a show. Came straight from there,”

“You’re in a band. Any good?”

“Yeah. We are,” he beamed, and you liked his confidence. He didn’t say it with arrogance, but with love. “I’m Van,” he introduced.

“Y/N. Nice to meet you,”

“Yeah. You too. Should we go find drinks before these weirdos have ‘em all?”

As you nodded and followed Van into the house you asked him what he meant by weirdos. He told you that every party he’d been to that was associated with a uni, whether it be by location or guest list, was always a strange thing. He didn’t understand why people had to make up games to drink, or why it was a competition to see who could get wasted the quickest.

“Just relax. Have a good time. Chill out. You know?” he said and you tended to agree. You were at the party upon request of Grace, who was into a girl she’d met in orientation week.

You and Van found the kitchen and he began to raid the fridge. He pulled out two different bottles and let you chose. You took the cider. There were three girls crowded around the island in the middle of the room, giggling. You could hear their confused voices and their hushed words of “I don’t know…” You stood on tippy toes to see what they were doing. Shots. Tequila shots. They had the lime cut into uniform wedges and a salt shaker.

“Salt. Tequila. Lime.” They turned to look at you. They were already buzzed, and their faces were welcoming. You glanced at Van quickly, who looked amused. He gave you a smile. You stepped closer to the girls. “Lick a line on your hand, put the salt there. It sticks. Then, lick the salt off, take the shot, bite into the lime. The quicker the easier it is.”

“If you want to make it more fun, have the lime in someone else’s mouth so you have to bite it from their lips,” Van added, standing next to you and leaning forward on the island. The girls giggled and were suitable impressed with the suggestion.

“Are you guys together,” one of the girls asked. She had a black bob and was beautiful. She was the least drunk of them; you could tell because she hadn’t yet started to sway. She looked at you and there was something knowing about her.

“We just met,” you answered.

“Can you, like, show us this lime thing?” she questioned, feigning innocence.

Immediately Van licked a line on the edge of his hand and poured the salt. He picked up a shot and handed it to you, then put the lime between his lips. He grinned around it and it was goofy but somehow still made you feel… something. The girls were giggling more now. The black haired girl was watching carefully, amused. Van shrugged with one shoulder and held his hand out to you.

You licked the salt up and downed the tequila. A natural at shots, it was swallowed before you even went for the lime. When you did Van dropped the lime and your lips collided with his. He kissed you and you moved away quickly. You tried not to smile, but it was hard not to. The grin on his face was pure mischief, and you could feel your cheeks turning red.

“Sorry.” His apology was insincere. “Dropped it. Accident.”

“What a happy accident,” the girl with the black hair added.

Van took a shot without the salt and lime, but chased it with his beer.

“Alright, I’m going to go find my friend now,” you announced to the room, not sure if you were saying goodbye to just the girls or Van too. You didn’t need to clarify your intention to yourself or anyone though. Van followed you from the room. Checking your phone, you followed her directions to the trampoline out the back. It was covered in pillows and blankets. Grace sat in the middle with a girl with wildly frizzy red hair. They looked beautiful together.

“Y/N!” she called, and crawled to the end of the trampoline. You hugged her.

“This is Jay,” she introduced. You said hi.

“Um, this is Van,” you pointed to him and Grace grinned.

“I know your face,” she spoke in sing-song, “You’re in that band, aren’t you?”

“I am in a band, yeah,”

“The one with that song that got on the radio the other day?” Grace was being vague, but Van nodded and his face lit up with pride. She nodded at him and stared for a little too long. She finally looked back at you. “You’re drinking?”

“Yeah. There’s tequila in the kitchen,” you knew as soon you told her she’d be up. She pulled Jay off the trampoline and called out as she skipped through the crowd of people. “I’ll find you later, yeah?!”

You were left alone with Van. When you turned to talk to him, to ask what he wanted to do, he was already kicking his boots off under the trampoline. He climbed up and sighed as he got comfortable on the blankets. You slipped your shoes off and followed him. The centre of the trampoline caved in with you both on it, and you had no choice but to be touching.

“So your band is good good then? Good enough for the radio,”

“Apparently,”

“What do you play?”

“I sing. Do guitar too,”

“Does that mean you write the lyrics?”

As he nodded you thought about what types of things Van would want to sing about. You both watched the sky for a bit, but you were too close to the city for there to be many stars. You people watched instead, and started to point out all the weirdness to each other. There was a guy handing out pieces of bread. He held the loaf like a baby in his arms, and offered each slice like it had been touched by God. Another guy had found a hoola-hoop and was doing some impressive tricks. Two girls were wearing matching outfits, and you made Van whistle in their direction to get their attention. They looked up and you motion for them to come over. You told them they were beautiful, and they almost cried. They even had matching hair buns with glitter along the part. Van agreed they were special and fantastic.

“You don’t have to hang out with me all night,” Van said after some comfortable silence.

“You don’t have to hang out me either,”

“I want to,”

“Then it’s settled.”

You didn’t move from the trampoline bed. Grace came back every so often with drinks, and sometimes with bread if she passed the guy. You shared your cigarettes when Van ran out, and he lit them all. As his face was illuminated by the flame, shadows flickering and skin glowing orange, you fell just a little in love. He put the lighter away and looked back at you. Your eyes met, he winked, and you covered your face with a pillow. Van laughed and pulled you into his side under a blanket.


End file.
